


Unease

by acemerrill



Category: The Doctor Blake Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Failure to Communicate, Someone needs to make these two actually discuss some things, so i did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acemerrill/pseuds/acemerrill
Summary: Jean finds Lucien drinking alone and fears the worst. It might finally be time to have a real discussion.Post-ep 5x02





	1. Jean

“Lucien, is everything all right?” Jean’s worry showed on her face as she walked into his study. Finding him drinking alone in the study had become a much less common occurrence since their engagement. Seeing him now, distracted and disheveled, and clearly more than a few drinks in, set her mind racing to find what could have upset him.

Lucien looked up with glazed eyes and managed only a meager smile at the sight of his fiancée.

“Ah, Jean. Yes, I’m fine,” he assured her, though he couldn’t even muster the bravado to stand.

Jean tilted her head at him in silent appraisal, seeing through his lie. She couldn’t help the insecurities that had her questioning why he would be keeping his troubles from her. Was her inability to easily reciprocate his physical affection driving a wedge between them? He’d been nothing but respectful of her so far. And his playful manner with the pine bark and the romantic dance certainly led her to believe that he was content enough with the course of their relationship. She shook her head as she determined the only thing to do was press the issue. Whatever it was, they would have to get it out in the open.

“Lucien,” she started again, this time trying a lower tone as she worked her way further into the room.

Apparently, that was all the prompting he needed as he abashedly met her gaze and let out a sigh.

“Right then, I never have been good at keeping you in the dark, have I, Jean?” His half smirk this time had a little bit more mirth behind it. “I really ought not try, especially now,” he added, having the good sense to look contrite.

“You know you can talk to me, whatever it is,” Jean replied, grateful that he seemed willing to open up, but still a bit uneasy. “If it concerns me…” Jean hesitated, not sure how to voice her apprehension, “if this is about the other night, in the kitchen…” she kept her head down, missing the perplexed look that crossed her fiancée’s face. “Lucien, I know you may be feeling more, well, ready for intimacy…”

Lucien was out of his chair and around the desk to meet her faster than was wise. But he shook his head to shake away the threatening lightheadedness as well as the notion that his relationship with the woman in front of him was anything less than satisfactory. Placing both hands on her face, he drew her head up to ensure that she could see how sincere he was.

“Jean,” he took a deep breath to gather his thoughts, “Jean, there is nothing about you, not one single thing, that makes me unhappy. I am so…” He had to take another, steadying breath as his voice started to shake, “sorry if I have made you feel pressured.”

Jean tried to shake her head between the pressure of his hands, “You didn’t, I just, Lucien I don’t know how to do this anymore.” She swallowed back a sob and buried her head in his chest as he gathered her in his arms, settling his chin on top of her head.

“Jean, my sweet Jean. I don’t know how to do this either. If I seem eager, it’s because, well I AM eager,” he smiled through his threatening tears as she sobbed out a laugh. “I’m eager for you, Jean, but I’m mostly eager to start our life together. But it’s OUR life, my dear, and I will gladly follow whatever lead you want to take. If my physical overtures are making you uncomfortable…”

“But they’re not,” Jean pushed back on his chest in time to catch his surprised look.

“I thought…”

“Being close to you doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Don’t you see? That’s what makes this so difficult,” She punctuated her statement by pushing back a bit further.

Utterly confused, Lucien let his hands fall to his sides. “I can’t, I don’t understand,” he whispered, scared to press, but needing to clarify.

Jean now realized that what had started as an attempt to get him to open up had quickly devolved into a situation where she was poised to share more with him than she probably ever had, with any man. She contemplated dropping the topic and running to the sanctuary of her room, where Lucien rarely dared to follow. She was good at running from her feelings and pretending they didn’t need to be acknowledged. She was starting to take her first steps back when the look on her future husband’s face gave her pause. His confusion and fear were written across his features, and she remembered that she had come into the study feeling much the same. How could she expect him to share with her when she was unwilling to do the same?

“Lucien, being close to you is wonderful,” She took a step back towards him as if to prove her point and he was wise enough to keep quiet and let her take her time. “I have never enjoyed a man’s touch as much as I enjoy yours, and it scares me,” her voice was low and timid, but she pressed onward, “Because every time you touch me or kiss me, all I feel is that I want more. And all I can think is that I ought not feel that way. That I should be feeling less selfish and more ashamed,” she stopped to choke back a sob.

“Ashamed of what, Jean? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re the least selfish person I know” Lucien could no longer hold his tongue while watching her struggle.

“Lucien, I’ve already been married. I already had love. Wanting that again, it’s just selfish.”

“Jean, you didn’t lose your right to love when Christopher died.”

“Perhaps not, but I certainly had no right to love another woman’s husband.”

Lucien looked as if he’d been slapped. “No, you and I both had every reason to believe she was gone before we ever…” he took a breath,too flustered to complete a sentence. “Mei Lin, she under…”

“Mei Lin made a choice for your sake, not hers,” Jean cut him off. “And I let her leave the husband she loved because I wanted you.”

“Seventeen years, Jean. Seventeen years, and I finally, finally allowed myself to feel again, to feel anything, because of you. I couldn’t have known she was still alive any more than I could walk back my feelings for you just because she walked back into my life. Mei Lin didn’t leave because you wanted me. She left because I wanted you,” he was worked up now, and took a moment to refocus on quieting Jean’s fears even as his own eyes started to fill with tears. He fought the impulse to reach out to her, wanting to let her set her own pace.

“Jean, I know that our situation is unorthodox, and certainly not entirely fitting into traditional views of propriety. But you are the most kind, loyal, virtuous, and brilliant woman that I have ever known. And I can’t bring myself to believe that wanting to be with you could ever be the wrong thing,” he had to stop to even out his shaky breaths, “because you make me so, so much better.” He couldn’t hold back the tears now. “And I want to spend the rest of my life trying to prove worthy of that.”

Jean’s hand found its way to her mouth as if she could physically hold back the sobs that were forming in her throat. She couldn’t stop herself from stepping back into Lucien’s space and placing her other hand on his shoulder. Taking a few trembling breaths, she readied herself to speak again.

“You have nothing to prove to me, Lucien. My insecurities have nothing to do with you, or how I feel for you. I just can’t turn off the voices telling me all of the reasons why this is wrong, my priest, Jack, the whispers of the people in this town, because I’ve been listening to them my whole life.”

Lucien put both of his hands over hers where they rested on his shoulder. “You have been doing the thing that everyone else wanted you to do for so long. I want nothing more than for you to just do as you please, to choose what you want. Even if,” he paused to lift her hand to his lips and whispered stoically into her knuckles, “even if that means you want to forego the drama of marrying me to find some peace.”

Jean was taken aback as she looked at the man in front of her. He had only moments ago told her how much it meant to him to be with her. And here he was offering to give that up so that she could, what? She wasn’t even sure what that would accomplish.

She watched Lucien’s stoicism falter at her perceived hesitation and she hurried to reassure him, drawing her hand from his to place it on his cheek. “Lucien Blake, that is the most selfless thing anyone has ever offered to do for me, but don’t you dare. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I’m just, I suppose I’m not accustomed to getting what I want. I can figure out how to handle those pesky voices if you can accept that I may need reassuring from time to time.” She punctuated her point by placing a firm kiss on his lips.

She could taste his relief as he eagerly returned the kiss and gathered her into his arms. Much too soon for her liking, he drew back to look at her. “Jean Beazley, I would personally silence every one of those misguided voices if I could, but I am happy to take whatever pace sets your mind at ease.” He then sat down on the chair in front of his desk, pulling her down onto his lap and drawing her head to his shoulder.

Jean sighed as she breathed him in. Trying to understand how she could still feel uneasy in the arms of this wonderful man. And then she remembered.

“Lucien, why WERE you drinking alone when I came in here?”


	2. Lucien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Lucien's turn to let Jean know what's on his mind.

“Lucien, why WERE you drinking alone when I came in here?”

She sat up to look down at him as his face paled.

“Jean, it was really nothing. I’m sorry for making you worry, I just sometimes still can’t quite beat that old habit of wallowing a bit.” His attempts at reassuring her this time were much more believable, but Jean could still sense that he was deflecting.

“That may be true, but there must have been something for you to wallow about,” she retorted, determined not to let him off the hook. Not only did she feel that she had opened up to him and she deserved similar consideration from him, but she was genuinely concerned that he might spiral into old patterns if something was left bothering him unchecked.

“Well, I do have a knack for finding things to wallow about, but this one was small and had nothing to do with you, and seems even more insignificant when I have you in my arms,” he flashed his flirtatious smile at her, hoping to charm his way out of sharing, but Jean was much too wise to his ways.

“Ah, well if it’s such a small concern, you certainly won’t have any trouble sharing it with your future wife,” she leveled back it him, fixing him with a challenging stare.

He sighed deeply in response and averted his gaze, knowing he was powerless when she looked at him like that.

“Lucien,” she called him back to her, placing a tender hand at the back of his neck, “I want to be able to support you and share your burdens, but you keep so much tucked away. You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore.”

“I know, I do know that. You’ve been lightening my load since I first came back to Ballarat. I just,” he paused as his eyes filled with tears once more and he bit his lip, “I want to be able to be strong for you.”

Her heart broke as she looked down at the man she loved. This powerful and capable man who fought so hard to keep everyone from seeing the broken boy he was. She was struck by the urgent need to bundle him up in her arms and rock him gently to sleep. She settled instead for placing a kiss on his hairline, then pressing her forehead against his.

“Lucien, having sorrows and fears and heartache doesn’t make you weak. It makes you all the stronger for being the kind and giving man you are in spite of all that. You have given me so much strength.”

She could feel his shuddering breaths in the small space between them and couldn’t help but feel badly for pushing him back into his misery. “Now you don’t have to tell me what exactly is bothering you, but…”

“No, Jean, you’re right,” he interrupted, leaning back from her and taking a deep breath before continuing, “I need to learn to share these things. I just,” he paused and she could feel his restlessness. She got to her feet and he quickly accepted her unspoken invitation to stand. His hand found its way to the back of his head as he turned slightly away from Jean, “I never really had anyone to… I learned to file it all away, to, to bury it with whiskey.” He turned back to her now, “But you, you deserve better than that.”

Jean shook her head at him, partly to reject the notion that he could somehow be unworthy of her and partly to shake her sorrow that a man with so much capacity for emotion never had any outlet to share it.

“I was worried about that boy,” he practically blurted, before she could say anything.

“The boy?” She whispered. She knitted her brow in confusion, trying to think of any boys who warranted Lucien’s concern.

“Robbie, the uh, the Charles boy,” he answered, waving his hand, as if that somehow explained why he would be worrying about him.

“Was he ill or mistreated? Do we need to go check on him?”

“No, no, not as far as I could tell. I was just,” he sighed again, “he’s such a sweet little boy.” He bit back his cries, determined to get it out now. “And his mother took him with her while she committed murder. And now she’ll go to prison, and who knows what he’ll have to face without his parents.” Tears were streaming freely now.

“Has something happened to Dean, as well?” Jean asked, still not completely understanding, but feeling compelled by Lucien’s anguish over the boy’s plight. Lucien seemed almost surprised by her question. He shook his head and stood up taller, using his hands to straighten out his clothes.

“No, you’re quite right. Dean seems like a good man. I’m worrying over nothing. I’m sure the boy will be fine. Quite right.” It was like he was putting on a show. Jean studied him, knowing that there was something else going on but not quite able to put her finger on it. Then he cleared his throat and glanced furtively at her and it somehow slipped into place.

“Oh, Lucien,” she placed her hand on his upper arm and he actually flinched away from her. She drew her hand back but kept it hovering in the space between them, needing to touch him, but not wanting to spook him. “Lucien, how old is the Charles boy?” She didn’t expect a response. “He must be around 6 now. About the same age Li was, right?”

At this, Lucien collapsed back down into the chair, dropping his head into his hands along with all pretense as sobs racked his body. Jean froze, unsure what he needed in this moment, but ultimately couldn’t stop herself from dropping to her knees in front of him. She placed her forehead against the top of his head and rubbed her hand over the hair above his neck, in an unconscious mimic of his own nervous habit. She didn’t have any words to offer the broken man, opting instead for silent comfort.

They stayed in that position for several long moments before Lucien slowly calmed and became aware of the low, soothing ‘shushes’ that Jean had started emitting without realizing. He lifted his head, forcing Jean to break contact, and sat up straight. “Jean, I was so caught up in the puzzle and justice that I didn’t even consider what I was doing. Until…” his voice trembled again as he fought for composure, “until I saw that boy hug his mother goodbye, knowing full well he couldn’t know the gravity of the moment. I watched a mother say goodbye to her opportunity to raise her child and I, and I…” he broke down again, unable to continue.

“Elizabeth Charles made her own decisions, Lucien. She forfeited her own future when she killed Nadya. It’s not your fault.”

“I know that, I do, but I can’t help but feel for her, for what she’s lost and my place in it. My place in ensuring that she won’t be there to watch her boy grow.”

Jean knew that this wasn’t really about Robbie, and she was reasonably certain that Lucien knew it as well. So rather than trying to convince him this wasn’t his fault, she placed her hands on his knees and waited.

* * *

 

Jean’s knees were beginning to ache from the hard floors when Lucien finally found his voice, “I loved being a father,” he stated with such heartbreaking conviction that Jean had to swallow her own sob.

“I know I wasn’t perfect at it, but I loved holding Li in my arms and watching her grow. When her little hand grabbed mine, I felt like I could give her the world. But I couldn’t even keep her safe.” His trembling hand went to his mouth, as if he could catch the words and make them hurt less. “And I missed it. She grew up without me, and now I’m just a man she knows in a faraway land.”

Jean fought the urge to tell him that none of it was his fault. That he had done the best he could and nobody could have done any better. But she knew that it wouldn’t give him back the time he lost, and she wanted to let him express what losing his family had actually done to him. Instead, she started rubbing little circles on his knees, to reassure him that she was there.

“Li adored me, then, before. She always wanted to be near me. Whenever I would come home, she would jump in my arms and rub my beard.” His hand mirrored the actions of his daughter in memory. “And I held her hands while she learned to walk, taught her English. She was so clever.” He smiled briefly through the tears as he thought about his happy memories, but it slipped away all too quickly.

“I thought I had a lifetime to teach her and watch her grow, but then it was just, gone.” He looked at Jean then, teary eyes meeting teary eyes.

“I loved being a father,” he repeated with a solemn nod.

Jean said nothing, just pulled herself up and back into his lap, drawing his head to her chest with one hand while rubbing tender circles on his back with the other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. Lucien was so adorable with that little boy. And it broke my heart. Because I know he was such a good father, and it must tug at him when he interacts with children. Because Li will probably always be that age in his mind, even though she's alive and well and fully grown. Also, I can't resist making him cry because he's so damned precious and beautiful when he does. And he and Jean just need to adopt some kiddos.


End file.
